


Bonding

by cognomen



Series: Cognomen's List of Things that Aren't Reptiles [5]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Bodyswap, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 12:53:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13590453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cognomen/pseuds/cognomen
Summary: February Ficlet Challenge Day 5; Pairing: Legolas and Gimli, Prompt: Bodyswap“Legolas,” he barks—very unsatisfactory in the elf’s own musical voice—”what elf magic is this?”If he had to guess, Gimli instantly knows that if his spirit seems to be in Legolas’ body then it must be Legolas currently violating the spaces between Gimli’s toes.





	Bonding

Gimli wakes to the very unusual sight of himself. Not that he’s unusual, but normally he isn’t the first thing he sees when he wakes, especially not from a distance of several feet.

He appears to be examining his own blunt toes and square feet with more than casual interest. Gimli is _positive_ he hasn’t had enough to drink for this.

“ _What_ -?” he starts to ask, expecting to see his own mouth moving. It doesn’t, and the voice that forms the word is familiar but in the wrong way.

A deep, dwarven suspicion of ridiculous magic rises in Gimli. He look at his own hands, squinting in displeasure at the fine-boned and elegant fingers in front of his eyes.

Even worse, he recognizes them!

“Legolas,” he barks—very unsatisfactory in the elf’s own musical voice—”what elf magic is _this?_ ”

If he had to guess, Gimli instantly knows that if his spirit seems to be in Legolas’ body then it must be Legolas currently violating the spaces between Gimli’s toes.

“It’s a simple bonding spell,” his own voice answers. HIs face is wearing a strangely blank and dispassionate expression, eyes squinting in Gimli’s direction. Gimli realizes he can see every crease and wrinkle on his own face, every hair in his beard, every pore on his broad nose.

No wonder Legolas spent all his time showing off the things he could see. Gimli’s not sure he likes it.

“How do you live like this?” Legolas asks him, still squinting. “I feel blind.”

“I feel like a stiff breeze would carry me away,” Gimli complains, getting up out of the pile of furs he’d slept in. “How do we undo it?”

“It will wear off by itself when the sun goes down,” Legolas assures him, now fascinated by Gimli’s hands.

Already tired of this, Gimli goes to find something to eat, and his long stride carries him across the suddenly smaller seeming room in only two steps. He doesn’t like it.

Food tastes different, and he finds he can eat far less of it before he’s full. He doesn’t like how he has to look so far down to see whatever Legolas is up to with his body. He doesn’t like how the rest of the elves just look at the pair of them stumbling around and immediately address Gimli’s body as the prince.

“Why does everyone _know_?” Gimli demands.

“It’s the scowl,” Legolas tells him.

“What scowl?” Gimli’s face hurts. “What’s this supposed to teach us, anyway?”

“Patience,” Legolas says, and shows a toothy grin that looks wrong on Gimli’s own face. “I’m learning a lot.”

“Like?”

“Where all the soft spots are.”

Gimli doesn’t like the sound of tha. “You’re _all_ soft spots.”

“I have other strengths.”

Still, Gimli gets the impression that Legolas might find the exercise more trying than he expected. It stings his pride a little that his body is a trial for his friend.

-

At the end of the day, Gimli looks forward to getting his own body back.

“Did you learn anything?” Legolas asks, hoisting himself up onto one of the elegantly carved beds with a grunt, and perhaps discovering why Gimli choses more often to sleep on the floor.

“It’s no wonder you’re never tired,” Gimli says. “You get anywhere you like in two steps.”

“I learned why you complain when I put something you need on the top shelf.”

Gimli actually chuckles. It’s not as satisfactory sounding as usual.

“So you won’t anymore?”

“I still like when you ask me to get things down.”

Gimli supposes he’s liked being able to reach things. “Maybe we _don’t_ undo the magic, then?”

The look on his own face is worth it. Gimli reaches out and takes his own hands, feeling how rough they are in comparison to the smooth ones he currently possesses. “We didn’t need magic to help us understand each other.”

“No,” Legolas agrees, squeezing his own fingers hard enough to ache. “But I couldn’t think of a way to be any closer otherwise.”

 _Well_ , Gimli allows to himself later, when his limbs are all the proper lengths and his middle is the proper width again, _that’s fair._


End file.
